


Black Boots

by bisexual_dumbass



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: (he's going by 'Ash' for non-trans-related reasons but eventually that will be the reason), ADHD, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anxiety, Depression, Everyone Is Gay, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, I'm writing this for me and you guys are just along for the ride :) lmao, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Nonbinary Warlock Dowling, Queer Themes, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, Such as:, Updates Sporadically, Warlock becoming an emo little shit is my favorite headcanon ever, eventual angst, god i just live for soft Warlock, however that is subject to change, i'll probably add more tags bc i'm forgetful as hell!, idk when they're getting together but eventually They Will, it's strangers to friends to lovers but there's not a tag for that specifically lol, let's see how many tags i forget, nanny ashtoreth did NOT raise a PREP, oh and i know the tags make it seem really heavy but it probably won't be too graphic, these next tags will be addressed eventually, writing niche AUs is self care folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2020-12-21 01:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21066263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexual_dumbass/pseuds/bisexual_dumbass
Summary: Warlock meets his roommate! And he's lying about his name-- he doesn't want anyone to figure out who his parents are. He chose a cheap, plain college because he wants to remove himself from them. He's gonna learn some stuff about himself, make some friends, and start to actually feel... y'know, happy. But not before he's dragged through rough times! Self-acceptance and -discovery aren't easy-- emotional baggage isn't easy to unpack!





	1. Bitter

**Author's Note:**

> Let's see if I regret posting this in the morning! The title will make sense eventually.   
Edit: Hey check out this super great art I found!!! It's exactly how I was imagining the both of them, so if you want a reference for what they look like as adults check it out!!   
[It's cool as hell!](https://lycoris-lily.tumblr.com/post/187137038566/thanks-to-nanny-ashtoreth-warlock-is-a-goth-she)

Warlock practically throws his last suitcase onto his bare mattress. He is _ exhausted. _ He’d carried every last one of his bags and suitcases and boxes up _ two _ flights of stairs. He sits on the undressed bed and rests his arm on the bag. It certainly didn’t make him feel better to see a dozen other people getting help from their friends and parents. His mom tried to hire movers, but he’d rather that not be the first impression he makes on his floormates. He’d stuffed everything into his car and drove his own damn self here, no chauffeurs, no movers— nothing. 

And it felt great. 

He rests his head in his hand and takes a deep breath. He’d picked this college purely out of spite— the cheapest one he could find. He’s sure he would’ve gone insane if he had to listen to any professor going on and on about his dad’s “accomplishments” and his grandfather’s “donations.” He’s _ well _ aware of how his family makes it through college, and he’s not going to be a prop for his parents to parade around. He doesn’t know what he wants— he only knows it’s anything but that. 

He’s not sure where his roommate is— they hadn’t had the chance to talk given his last minute switch of schools. He’d heard his name when he talked to the woman who helped him figure out his living situation, but he can’t remember what it was. 

He properly looks over the other half of his room for the first time since he’d entered it. Relatively tidy, albeit pretty cluttered. The lofted twin-size bed is about five feet off the ground. Underneath it, there’s an old, brown futon with an afghan draped over the back. There are posters and pictures all over the wall on either side of the bed, which makes the white cinder blocks above the sofa look extra bare. 

He stands up to take a closer look at the pictures above his roommate’s desk near the window in the back. There are lots of photos of a little black and white dog, one of which is labelled ‘dog,’ which he finds odd. Of course it’s a dog. He ignores it and looks at some of the other decorations. The little figurines on the shelf over the desk give him a strange impression— a little juvenile, he thinks. There are several posters for books and shows he’s never heard of. 

They’re not going to get along. Not that it bothers him— he’d been planning on ignoring him anyway. 

Adam fumbles with his keys in his free hand, iced coffee in his other, but when he reaches the door, it’s already open a crack. He pushes it, and there’s someone in the back of the room putting some stuff on a shelf. He’s wearing black jeans, a black leather jacket, and chunky boots— unsurprisingly, also black. 

“Hello…” he says hesitantly. 

The stranger turns and swishes his long hair out of his face with a flick of his head. His features are sharp and expressionless. 

Adam smiles awkwardly. “I take it you’re the guy replacing the last one. My name’s Adam.” He tries (and fails) to wave with the hand holding his coffee, and it rattles loudly through the stiff silence. 

“Hi,” the skinny boy says coldly. He turns back to the shelf and tucks his hair behind his ear, and Adam notices a couple silver hoops near the top of it— they match the one on his lip. 

He shuts the door awkwardly. He’s a little uncomfortable— he knew he’d have a roommate, but he didn’t know when he’d show up. 

“So… you got a name?” 

Warlock’s been ready to answer this question for weeks. His dad isn’t an English politician, but he’d rather not take the risk of anyone finding out who he is considering his birth name is pretty memorable. Distancing himself from them is the entire reason he picked an unremarkable school in the first place. 

“Ash.” It’s short for his middle name. Lucky for him, the application had a ‘preferred name’ section. 

Adam sets his things down and starts to settle in. “You’re American?” 

Warlock repeats his automatic response to the constant assumption. 

“Nope. Parents are. Never picked up the accent.” 

“Oh.” Adam fidgets with his phone case. “Sorry, that must be annoying.” 

“S’fine,” he mumbles. He’s been asked a countless number of times. “Used to it.” 

Adam sits down on the futon, a little unsure of what to do with company after a few days of peaceful solitude. He’d at least been a little acquainted with who was _ supposed _ to be his roommate. They’d exchanged a few emails to get a feel for everything, but the guy just… stopped responding, and Housing emailed him that he was being replaced. He still doesn’t know what happened, and he supposes he probably never will. Regardless, he’s now sharing less than a 150 square feet with a total stranger, and they’re having a pretty uncomfortable first interaction. 

“I’ve thought about faking it.” Warlock is surprised at the sound of his own voice. He’s usually not one for contributing to conversations. 

Adam watches him finish sliding CDs onto the shelf. “Faking what?” 

“The accent,” he continues monotonously. “It’d probably save me about an hour of small talk a week.” 

Warlock turns around and sits on the edge of his desk. Adam is wearing khaki cargo shorts and a pastel pink hoodie. His hair is messy, teetering dangerously between that just-rolled-out-of-bed style and actual bedhead to the point where Warlock genuinely can’t tell if it’s styled or just messy. 

“Are you from around here?” Adam barrels on. 

“Nope.” Warlock carries his empty boxes to the other side of the room, already tired of the small talk— he’s met enough people to know that no one actually cares what his answers are. 

“I grew up nearby, so I know the area pretty well,” Adam shares. 

Warlock continues to fold the cardboard down and stacks them in a pile between the floor of his bed and his dresser. Adam hesitates to make this offer, but it’s worth a shot. 

“Hey, um… a couple friends and I are going to the cafeteria in a little bit. I’ve been here a few days, so I could show you around if you want.” 

Warlock is glad he’s turned around because he visibly scrunches his face in disgust at the idea.

“No thanks, I’m pretty tired. I had to carry everything up the stairs by myself.” 

Adam laughs— he hadn’t expected him to make a joke after being so standoffish. 

Warlock turns to stare blankly at him, and his smile quickly fades into realization. 

“Oh my god, you’re serious? You know there’s an elevator, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very hesitant to post this-- it's hard for me to write just for FUN and not be a hyper-critical perfectionist. I'm having a good time!! That's all that matters!! Thank you for reading <3


	2. Etiquette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still trying to get over being a perfectionist; please enjoy my humble offering :)

It’s only been a month, and Ash already hates it here. His last minute decision to switch schools meant all the good classes and times were full, he’s gotten lost more times than he can count, the couple next door has already had loud sex _ multiple _ times (jesus christ, do they _ sleep?), _ the next person to ask him if he’s American as a conversation starter is gonna get hit over the head with his bookbag, and he _ hates _to admit it… but he wishes his dad would call. 

He flops face down onto his bed, not bothering to take off his shoes or backpack, and wishes he could sleep forever. 

Adam swivels around in his desk chair. “Hey, man.” 

Ash sighs deeply into his mattress, immediately reminded that Adam will _ not _ stop inviting him places, no matter how many times he turns him down. 

“Some friends and I are going to an open mic comedy show in Arthur Hall on Friday at seven. It’s gonna suck— it’ll be a lot of fun.” 

Ash’s voice is muffled heavily by the blanket his face is pressed into. “Got class at seven.” At least he doesn’t have to come up with an excuse this time. 

“Oh, shoot, that’s right.” Adam swivels back around. “Some other time, then.” 

He’s perfectly aware that Ash wishes he’d stop asking; Adam isn't as dense as he seems to think. He doesn’t know why he’s so determined to befriend him, but something tells him he’s worth getting to know. He’s also pretty sure Ash doesn’t have any friends yet, and that's what has group has always been: a home for outsiders. 

He can tell Ash is having a rough day, but the last time he asked him about it… it did not go well. It wasn’t explosive, but he didn’t speak unless spoken to for a few days, so he’s not too keen on taking a direct approach again. Ash isn’t much of a talker already— he’s worried that saying the wrong thing again might make him stop talking altogether.

He decides not to dwell on it and gets back to work on his essay. 

Ash sits up to avoid suffocating himself under his backpack. He rolls it off, and the lost weight makes his shoulders feel like they’re floating. He’d tried only carrying the books he needs for the day, but he kept mixing them up, so now he just carries all of them. 

He has a project due soon, but his partner hasn’t showed up to class in a week. He tried talking with his professor, but she just told him to try emailing the guy, like he hadn’t already thought of that. If he loses points over this, he’s going to be pissed. In the middle of writing yet another passive aggressive email to MIA student, something yellow catches the corner of his eye— there’s a carpenter’s knife on the ground next to Adam’s shoes near the door. It didn’t take long to establish that Adam has ADHD and often leaves things in strange places. He's used to pointing them out for politeness' sake. 

“You stole a tool again.” 

“Hm?” Adam pushes back his chair, takes out an earbud, and looks to where Ash is pointing. “Aw, shit, Sherry’s gonna kill me if I keep doing that.” He waves at it dismissively— he’ll pick it up later. He's been working on set construction for the theater department's first show this year, and he's got an annoying habit of forgetting to put down whatever tool he'd been using. 

Ash glares at Adam's back turned to him— Ash was hoping Adam would move it, but of _ course _ he didn’t. That would mean one thing went right today. It just _ had _ to be a knife this time. He’s already having a bad mental health day. 

Intrusive thoughts sure have been a bitch lately— oh, that reminds him! He keeps forgetting take his antidepressants. _That's_ why he's been so irritable and unfocused lately. He has to get better about taking that. He tosses the computer to the side. He needs a break.

He snags his towel off the hook on the wall near his dresser— showers always help him calm down, like hitting a reset button. 

Adam slips on his shoes and snags the carpenter’s tool off the ground— he really has to stop doing that. The busier he gets, the more often he misplaces things; the number of things he can keep track of definitely has a finite limit, and the loose college structure is making it quite obvious. Speaking of which, he almost lost track of time and missed his 3 o’clock study date. 

“Whoa!” Adam is almost hit by the door— he shouldn’t have been standing so close to it, in hindsight. 

“Oh, sorry,” Ash apologizes in his signature flat tone. 

He’s got a towel over his shoulder and his hair is wavy with water. Adam makes a strange observation— Ash fully changes in the showers, down to his shoes, which is… odd. He sets that thought side— not relevant right now. 

“Oh, I almost forgot! I got you something.” Adam rummages around through his bag— this is _ perfect _timing. 

Ash does his best to mask confused distaste— near horror at the idea. 

“I noticed your copy was skipping. This is used, but I checked— it doesn’t have any scratches.” 

“Uh…” He takes the CD like he’s being handed a bomb. 

Adam is quick to speak. He planned to do this on his way out the door so he had an excuse to leave before Ash could turn it down. 

“I’m gonna be late, see ya!” 

Ash tries to give it back. “Wait—” 

“Sorry I gotta go!” Adam shuts the door and dashes into the stairwell nearby. Ash isn’t a wordsy type of guy, so he thought maybe this might be better. 

Pepper is going to kill him if he doesn’t hurry, though. 

Ash stands there holding out the disc in front of him even after Adam has shut the door— he doesn’t know what to do with it. He’s tense from head to toe, still rigidly holding the small plastic case in front of him. There’s so much to process here, and the anxiety welling up in his gut isn’t helping his thoughts clear. 

He doesn’t need to look at it to know which album it is. Adam walked in while he was smacking his CD player in vain— that was almost two weeks ago. He not only recognized it through the skipping audio, but… he remembered. 

In addition to that, it recently became vintage, so it’s not just lying around stores anymore. He would have had to deliberately seek it out. Even if he had just happened upon it, that means his first thought was ‘I know who would like this.’ Both scenarios and their associated implications are… a lot. 

He finally relaxes his arm enough to open the case and look over the disc. It’s definitely used, but it’s not damaged. It wasn’t expensive— Ash could’ve just streamed it or bought another copy, and Adam definitely knows that… 

Which means he wants something. Well, of course he wants something— he’s been asking him to hang out for weeks. 

He furrows his brow, frustrated with himself and his inability to decide what to do with the CD. He can’t give it back. He doesn’t want it— well, that’s not true, he did want another copy, but not like _this._

This is why he _ hates _ gifts. He never knows how he’s supposed to feel. Every missed birthday party, ignored accomplishment, forgotten apology was substituted with _ gifts. _ There’s so much etiquette and so many unspoken rules about stupid _ gifts _ he doesn’t even _ want, _ and he never gets it right. He couldn’t get it right when they were from his parents— how is he supposed to know what to do when a near _ stranger _ gives him a gift, let alone one like _this._

He has a lot to think about, and he doesn't know where to begin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing from you guys, btw! Comments make my week :)


	3. Study Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty dialogue heavy whoops

_"Oof!” _

Adam collides with Pepper in the door to the library. 

“You’re _ late!” _

“Sorry, babe,” he jokes. 

“I told you to stop calling me that.” She punches his shoulder, but she’s obviously trying not to smile. “I’m gonna go fill my water bottle. I’ll be right back.” 

“Kay, I’ll go get settled in.” 

She whisks past him, and he makes his way to the back. The tables were set up in an organized pattern save for one, which was left in the back corner so as not to be in the way. Lucky for the few people who have stumbled upon it in the far reaches of the bookshelves, it’s usually empty. 

Pepper’s thick jean jacket is draped over the back of her chair. At least now that the weather’s cooling down, she doesn’t have to suffer for her passion— namely, dressing like a stylish lumberjack. Her bag is leaned against one of the chairs, and there’s an open textbook on the table. Of course she’d already been studying. It’s Physics 200— that’s the one taught by Professor What’s-His-Name, the one with the sunglasses; she seems to like him. 

He sits heavily into the chair next to hers— the dim lighting and quiet of the library always reminds him how tired he is. He’ll wake up as soon as Pepper gets back. He’d never paid much attention to it in high school, but he’s quickly learning that he’s quite an extrovert.

He has no idea how he would have handled it here without Them. They’ve been through too damn much together to lose touch— that’s why they all picked this school. Every one of them could have easily gone to more prestigious places, but Pepper and Wensley… they could have gone anywhere they wanted, which makes their decision to stay local that much more meaningful. 

He sighs… Pepper sure is taking a while to fill her water bottle— this place is _ littered _with water fountains; it’s not like she would have had to go far. He gets his things set up in the meantime, and sure enough Pepper returns a few seconds later. She sets her water bottle on the table— empty— and looks a little dazed. He’s instantly concerned. 

“Whoa, are you okay?” 

“Hm?” She turns to look at him. “Oh, yeah, just… ran into Thea.” 

His concern 180s into annoyance, and he rolls his eyes. Normally, he offers advice, but Pepper has been dumbstruck like this for _ weeks _now. His patience is wearing thin. 

“Oh my god, Pepper. Just ask her out already.” 

She shoots a few daggers at him, then glares at the book in front of her; Adam is surprised it isn’t set on fire by her smoldering gaze. 

“I _ will. _ I just… I don’t know if she’s into girls…” 

Adam looks at her disbelievingly. “Are you kidding me? When you introduced me to her, she was wearing rainbow combat boots. She has a buzz cut. She has, like—” 

“Okay, okay, shut _ up!” _ She fidgets with her pencil and avoids eye contact. Adam has never seen her so consistently out of sorts. She’s never flustered like this, and he’s never seen her confidence waver so frequently. 

“… you really like her.” 

She tries to muster some more of that fiery gaze, but doesn’t seem to have the energy to stay on the defensive. 

“Yeah,” she exhales. 

He waits a moment before continuing. “So what’s the real reason? What are you waiting for?” 

She takes a deep breath and flits her eyes up to his. “I’ve never asked out a girl. Or anyone. Well—” She waves her hand in his direction. “You don’t count.” 

Adam nods sympathetically. In early high school, they went out on a couple very uncomfortable dates. They were (and are) very close friends, but with the pressure from their parents and classmates, they’d mistaken that platonic bond for something else. It turns out they were very, very wrong. And very, very gay. Pepper could lecture anyone on compulsory heteronormativity for hours. 

After some contemplative silence, Adam finally responds softly. “Yeah. I get it.” 

Pepper stays quiet. At first, they thought it was odd that everyone in their friend group turned out queer in some way, but now they’re learning that people like them unknowingly flock together all the time. Still didn’t make being gay in a small town any easier— not that Tadfield was dangerous or oppressive— quite the opposite— but… the whispers and judgmental stares could get to be too much at times. They’re both still getting used to how open the environment is here— Pepper isn’t even out to her parents yet. 

“It’s gonna get easier, Peps.” 

She smiles gratefully and sighs. “Well, that was fun, but we should get to work. I’ve got that meeting in…” she checks her phone, “45 minutes. Are you sure you don’t wanna come with? The GERC is looking for new people all the time.” 

“Mm…” He scrunches his nose disapprovingly. “I don’t wanna be ‘that loud gay guy’ my entire time here.” 

She cocks a brow. “I’m choosing to surround myself with supportive people, but to each their own, I guess.” 

Adam smiles fondly at her. To an onlooker, it would seem like she’s being passive aggressive, but he knows there’s no malicious intent behind her statement, and she knows he knows. 

He sighs. “Fine. I’ll think about it.” 

She smirks and starts to scribble some notes in her notebook. “So, enough ragging on _ me _for not asking anyone out. What about your handsome, alluring roommate?” 

Adam tilts his head curiously. “I have used _ no _ words like those to describe him to you.” He blinks a couple times. “Wait, what do you mean—? Do you think—?” 

He doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. 

She makes a mocking, skeptical face. “It’s in your tone. How many times have you invited him to hang out with us?” 

Adam stumbles over his words while Pepper continues to scribble out whatever she’s doing. 

“I just— he doesn’t have any friends!” 

“Shh!” she scolds.

He lowers his voice and takes an exasperated breath. “I’m just being polite!” 

Her skeptical expression returns. “Alright, whatever you say…” 

He frowns, a little bothered by her accusation. And besides, the word he’d use to describe Ash is ‘pretty.’ 

No, no, no. He’s just being friendly! Then again… he does know Ash clearly doesn’t want that… Why is he still bothering? Even if he does agree one of these times, he’s sure it’ll probably just be to get him to leave him alone. 

“Actually… I should probably stop asking him… I think I’m just being a pest at this point.” He’s a little surprised by how disappointed he sounds. 

Pepper is sympathetic, but she’s never been good at comfort. She knows Adam was hoping to get along with his new roommate, and quite frankly she’s a little annoyed at Ash for disappointing him so consistently. 

“It’s not your fault he doesn’t know how cool we are.” 

“Ha.” He appreciates what she’s trying to do. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

He tries not to seem down for his own sake— why should he be? It’s not like he knows anything about him. They’re acquaintances at best.


	4. Time Flies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I put this at the beginning after discovering this, but for those of have already read the first few chapters, you probably didn’t see it. Here’s the [link](https://lycoris-lily.tumblr.com/post/187137038566/thanks-to-nanny-ashtoreth-warlock-is-a-goth-she) again! This is pretty much exactly how I pictured Adam and Warlock in this fic, like, _exactly,_ so if you want a reference, there ya go!  


Ash raps his fingers against the base of his laptop. He’s been thinking of how to approach Adam nearly constantly. He’s thought a lot about that CD— much more than he likes. It shouldn’t have so thoroughly rocked him like it did. He’s been trying to stop thinking about it, but thinking about not thinking about it is still thinking about it, and he’s driving himself _ crazy. _ If he could major in graciously accepting gifts, he’d already have half the credits, but this area falls out of his expertise. Stupid gifts. Traded for something of equal or greater value, and time counts. He’s never had to factor in _ sentimental _ value before. It was a _ thoughtful _ gift. He’s been at a complete loss for what to do. The only thing he can think of is to finally accept one of Adam’s _ ceaseless _invitations. 

He’s been avoiding him as much as he can for the last couple of days— the last thing he wants is to be invited somewhere right now, because he’ll feel obligated to accept. He wants at least a shred of control in this situation— _ he _ gets to choose when. He just… doesn’t know when that will be, and if he’s being honest with himself, he’s getting a little tired of spending so much time out of his dorm. People are exhausting. That’s what the clunky boots are for— loud sound might draw a little attention, but it deters the more timid college-dwellers from approaching him, at least. 

Luckily (unluckily?), his class tonight is cancelled. 

He sighs. So it looks like he’s going to that comedy show. It’s gonna be miserable, but at least this will finally be over. He can finally go back to ignoring Adam after tonight. 

It only takes him a few seconds to pack up his things— he can’t wait to go back to studying on his bed instead of this stuffy computer lab with way too many eyes. 

Adam is lying on the floor at the foot of his futon with his weighted blanket folded up over his torso— today is… it’s a lot. The type of day where the lights are too bright and he can feel every sound within a 100 foot radius in his teeth. He just has to lie on the floor a minute and let the sensory overload pass— it happens when he’s stressed or sad or angry— pretty much whenever any emotion gets to be too much. And today that feeling is rejection. God damned rejection sensitivity dysphoria. _ One _ person doesn’t like him, and the world is ending— so melodramatic. He’s hardly seen Ash since the dreaded gift day— he’s ruined it for good. 

The door squeaks open, and Adam’s spine shivers— he’s finding some WD-40 _ today. _

Ash is immediately put off— Adam is— well, he’s lying on the floor, for starters, and he looks… ill? He finds himself a little unusually concerned. 

“Are - you… okay?” 

Well, that’s just hurtful. He’s still trying to be polite. 

“Yeah, man, it’s an ADHD thing. Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just, like… don’t eat anything. The sound is…” 

Adam makes a sound that Ash can’t interpret, but it isn’t a happy one, that’s for sure. He’s not hungry, anyway. 

Wait, has he eaten today? 

He sighs. That’s why he’s feeling like this. Coffee and no food. He’s a little extra shaky in the joints (okay a lot shaky, he almost tripped on the stairs) and— fuck, he had to wear a belt today. He needs to eat more. 

He lets out a longer sigh. His self-care’s really gone to shit, huh. Granted, it wasn’t great before, but at least he took his meds every night and ate at least one meal a day that wasn’t coffee. He wore skinny jeans and he needed a _ belt. _ It’s fine, it’s fine, he’ll get better about it starting today. But he did say that last week. And the week before. 

Whatever, he’ll figure it out. He lost a few pounds, so what? 

He sets down his impossibly heavy bag and fidgets a moment, staring out his window into the student parking lot. If that jackass’s car alarm goes off at 4 am one more time he might go to prison for what he does next. Said jackass’s car isn’t in the lot, though— it’s pretty empty. Everyone starts pregaming early on Fridays— it’s only 6, and he’s certain at least one person he’s had the displeasure of meeting has been pulled over for drunk driving already. 

He glances back to Adam— he’s usually out by now, too, but he’s always off with his friends doing something or other. He doesn’t know what exactly (he stopped paying attention to what he was being invited to), but he doesn’t take Adam for a drinker. His eyes are closed and he’s taking deep breaths… maybe he shouldn’t do this now? But if he doesn’t, he’ll have to wait even longer to get this over with. 

Adam’s eyes are closed, but he can feel Ash’s eyes on him. It doesn’t happen often, so he’s started to pick up on when it does. He’s hovering— Ash doesn’t hover. He flies away at the first sign of a budding conversation, and here he is _ hovering. _

“Hey… so…” Ash trails off. 

Adam keeps his eyes shut. “Yeah?” 

Ash is grateful that he doesn’t have to avoid eye contact, and he’s perfectly aware of and embarrassed by his hot cheeks— he’s _ extra _ glad his eyes are shut now. 

“Mm… so… my class got cancelled.” 

Adam’s heart skips. Wait— 

“You said the show… it’s at 7, right? Arthur Hall?” 

Keep calm, play it cool— Ash is the most socially skittish person he’s ever met— he’ll be damned if he ruins it by getting overexcited. Adam hates it when he does that, ruins things by letting out too much of that overabundance of emotion. 

“Yeah, 7. We’re going to the café in about a half hour for a quick dinner, if you wanna tag along.” 

Ash hesitates— hesitates too long. 

_ Shit, _ that was too far. _ Shit, _ he pushed too much again. _ Shit, _ he’s gonna run off again. 

“Mm…” Ash turns and pretends to be busy. “… sure.” 

  
  


“Hey, guys!” Adam shouts from across the room. None of the other people at the tables pay him attention, but a small group (who Ash assumes are his friends) look over to them. 

“Ayyy!!” they yell and point in unison. 

_ Oh, boy. _ They swipe their ID cards and Ash follows Adam to where they’re seated— he already regrets coming. 

“Hey, guys,” Adam says. 

Miss Grunge is the first to respond. “I’ll be damned!” She looks Ash up and down in an exaggerated way. “I thought you might be Adam’s hallucination, what with how we haven’t actually seen you yet. He finally wore you down, huh?” 

Ash pushes a short breath through his nose and gives a small smile. He likes her immediately— reminds him of someone he used to know. 

“Oh, shut up.” Adam nudges her shoulder. “Why don’t you all—” 

“Pepper.” She smiles with just a hint of cockiness. 

Oh, he likes her a _lot._ Impressive, considering he likes all of about ten people total. 

The other two start to speak at the same time and look at each other awkwardly, and it doesn’t take a social expert to see something weird happen there in the conversation they have with their eyes. They silently agree to let Freckles sitting across from Pepper go first. 

“Brian.” 

The timid kid next to him sheepishly says, “Wensleydale.” 

A fitting name. He looks as though the ghost of a middle-aged accountant accidentally possessed a 14-year-old boy, and both were too polite to do anything about changing their situation. 

Adam gestures between Ash and the group. “Ash, gang. Gang, Ash.” 

“… hi.” 

Adam and his friends are the weirdest looking combination of people he’s ever seen— like an incomplete jigsaw puzzle that someone jammed any random extra pieces they could fit into it. In addition to Adam’s usually jockish appearance, there’s Wensley’s accountant-boy look with the coke bottle glasses and tediously styled hair, tight and professional. Then there’s Brian, a beanpole with splotchy freckles, which Ash realizes are partially obscured by thick, poorly washed off makeup— ah, a theater kid. And then there’s Pepper. He likes her style— big head of hair in tight curls, ratty jean jacket littered with pins, a studded belt— he has an appreciation for the muddied combat boots, too, crossed over the seat next to her. 

But to break it down into the simplest terms, they look like a frat boy, nerd, theater geek, and punk. And now him, he realizes. Another out of place and equally distinct style, which he’d prefer not to admit… could - _ potentially _ \- be described as _ similar _to emo, because he’s not quite goth either. Takes too much effort to be properly goth. 

Ash lets everyone chatter and goof around— there’s a lot of banter. He’ll admit that it’s a bit fun to watch at times, but he still just wants to lie in bed. No one pressures him to talk, and no one asks pointed questions, which he’s grateful for. Had a whole backstory worked up that was anything but ‘rich kid goes local.’ It takes a long while, but eventually there’s a lull in the conversation. 

“So… how long is the show?” 

There’s immediately a weird tension between Adam and the other three, and Ash panics a little bit— what? What did he do wrong? 

Pepper breaks the silence. “The flier says it runs ‘til 8:30 but we sort of got into an argument about when it’ll _ really _ end. We made bets.” 

Wensley speaks up first; he gestures with the back of his hand. “They have it scheduled for 8:30, it’ll run until then.” 

Brian and Adam throw up their hands— Ash gets the impression that this was a needlessly intense discussion he’s glad he wasn’t present for. 

“It _ won’t,” _ Brian says. “Some idiot’s gonna get ahold of that mic and talk and talk and talk ‘cause he thinks he’s hot shit— it’ll end around 9 at the _ earliest.” _

“I’m with Brian,” Adam chimes in. 

Pepper slams her empty cup on the table, and everyone jumps. “Fools! Brian’s got it half right— some idiot’s gonna think he’s hot shit, but he’s gonna make offensive jokes until they pull the plug. It’ll run ‘til 8 at the latest!” She points hard at all of them, and Ash hopes no one notices he’s the only one that flinches. “I get bonus points if he’s wearing glasses with thick frames and a flannel shirt.” 

Almost without meaning to, Ash says, “You guys are nuts if you think I’m listening to improv for longer than thirty minutes,” under his breath. He jumps a little when everyone laughs, and it takes him a second to realize they were laughing at what he said. 

Pepper mimes wiping a tear from under her eye. “Oh yeah, we’re not gonna do that either. We’re all gonna go back to my dorm after watching a few wannabe comedians fail spectacularly— it’s hilarious. Their heads are so full of hot air it’s a miracle they don’t float away.” 

“It’s their egos,” Adam says. “Way too heavy to lift off the ground.” 

Wensley juts out his lower lip. “I think it’s nice that they try.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Brian says. He taps a strip of the napkin he’d been tearing onto Wensley’s pouty lip. Everyone laughs when it gets stuck there— even Ash cracks a half smile. 

_ “Pbpbt,” _ he spits and peels it off. “Yuck!” He smacks Brian’s arm, but not very hard. 

He holds his shoulder and pretends it hurt. Wensley rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the fondness in it. 

“Mleh,” he says in a mocking tone. 

Brian holds his hands over his heart. “Aww.” 

Now it’s Pepper’s turn to roll her eyes, and Adam calls her out. “Oh, don’t act like you don’t turn into a cartoon with your heart thumping out of your chest every time you see—” he stops abruptly when he sees the way she’s looking at him. 

If throats could get slit by sight lines, Pepper would have done it just now with that look. 

Adam presses his lips together. “Alright, guess we’re not talking about that.” 

Pepper pulls out her phone, and her death glare ends. “Oh, shit, it’s almost 7:30.” 

Ash blinks in surprise— it’s been almost an hour? That went by fast. His brows pull together. That went by _ really _ fast. 

Pepper peers out the window they’re seated next to— Arthur Hall has a wall of windows, and from this vantage point, the stage is visible. 

“Ha!” she shouts. “Flannel and glasses.” 

“No, no, no— he’s still performing,” Brian disagrees. 

“Mhm, yeah, sure.” 

Everyone but Ash gathers around the window. 

Pepper leans back in her chair and raises a brow to him. ‘Wait for it,’ she mouths. 

“Aww,” they all complain, and Pepper nods. 

“I know a douchebag when I see one.” 

A few moments later the douchebag is walking across the yard— kicked out, probably. 

Tilted back impossibly far in her chair, she raises her fists above her head. “I win.” 

Adam plops back into his seat. “Well, looks like that’s out of the plan.” He looks to Ash. “Would you like to join us at Pepper’s? Roommate never showed up, whole place to herself.” 

“Okay, rude,” Pepper says. The first half of her next statement is directed at Ash, and the second at Adam. “Of course you can come, but it’s _ my room.” _

Ash shakes his head. “Class got cancelled, but the work didn’t. Fell’s nice, but he’s a bit of hard-ass.” Lying— he's lying. Well, Fell is a bit of a hard-ass, but he just wants to lie in bed. He's tired— and he's done. Obligation fulfilled. Thank god. 

Adam smiles. “Okay.” He’s just glad he came out this long. He even smiled a few times. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get back to this fic, but I really took that time to grow in my confidence as a writer— sometimes you just gotta write some garbage for fun! So from here on out I hope that'll show through :) And of course, thank you to all of you! You're all so sweet and supportive! Can't wait to keep working on this for you guys <3  



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